


In Which the Host Club is Scarred, They Won't Tell Anyone Why, and No-One Knows How to Deal With Anything

by LaurenKing



Series: In Which Souls are Swapped, People are Traumatized, and Everyone Has To Deal With That [2]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I need them there for plot reasons tho, I promise the OCs won't get in the way of the Big Feels, I scarred poor Tamaki for life, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and plan on reusing them whenever I need a buddy cop duo in a fic, crossover aftermath, so I tagged them by name instead of just as 'various OCs' like I usually do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-04-06 07:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19058251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenKing/pseuds/LaurenKing
Summary: Otherwise known as 'No-One Knows How to Deal' for brevity's sake. Sequel to 'What the Hell is a Host Club', runs parallel to the other fic in this series that will deal with the aftermath on the Host Club side. The parallel fics will be mostly separate, but neither will make sense without reading 'What the Hell is a Host Club' first (beware spoilers for that in this summary).---After their 'field trip' to Amestris, the Host Club is left scattered and scarred by their experiences. The police try to investigate the cause, but since magic CLEARLY doesn't exist the Hosts can't explain what happened at all. While Tamaki and Kyoya both try to pick up the pieces in their own ways, Honey is falling apart faster than anyone can help him. Haruhi, meanwhile, is a little distracted by the side-effects of sharing a soul with a Homunculus, even after separating. And the Twins, for the first time in their lives, can't really tell what the other is thinking.





	1. Let's Agree to Keep This Quiet

Haruhi sat in an interrogation room, alone. She had spent a lot of time in that particular room in the last week, actually. Ever since she and the rest of the Host Club had arrived back in their timeline, they had been in and out of hospitals and police stations.

They had only had a day and a half to get their story straight once they had arrived back. Eventually, they had decided that they had no chance of explaining what had happened, and had agreed to just stay quiet, telling everyone they didn’t know what happened. Almost as soon as they decided that, the police had found them.

In a normal missing person’s case, that might have been the end of it. But with their unusual injuries, the police had wanted answers, and they didn’t seem to be giving up on getting them. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like anyone suspected them of any wrongdoing. They were there as witnesses, not suspects. And considering the state they were in when they arrived back, it was no big surprise.

A friendly-looking officer entered, carrying a folder and a small bag of pastries. Officer Langley usually brought some kind of food when he came to ask Haruhi questions. She would have been suspicious that he was playing ‘good cop’, but so far there hadn’t been a ‘bad cop’ to go with him, meaning it might have been a genuine gesture.

“Good morning. Sorry to call you in so early,” he said, sitting down opposite Haruhi and offering her a pastry. She gladly took one, which made the Officer Langley smile. “I’m sure you’re tired of talking about this, I know it must be very stressful for you. But we’ve found some more evidence that we think might jog your memory. I’ve got some photos here for you to look at, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Whatever they had found, Haruhi was sure she could take it. Officer Langley slid a few pictures out of the folder, looking at Haruhi with a mixture of pity and expectation in his eyes. Haruhi spent a moment scrutinizing that expression before looking down at the pictures. They were photos of the human transmutation circle. As much as Haruhi and the others had tried to scrub it away, they couldn’t completely get rid of the traces of paint. Not enough to fool a full forensic team, anyway. Still, that didn’t change much. All she had to do was deny and deflect. That was the plan, and she was sticking to it. Hopefully the others would do the same. “Sorry, I’ve never seen anything like that before,” she lied.

Langley gave a dejected sigh, leaning back in his chair. “That’s alright. Don’t strain yourself to remember, I’m sure the memories will return in time. I promise you, Miss Fujioka, we will find the people who did this to you and your friends.”

Haruhi couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at that. Officer Langley and all the other investigators had been nothing but kind and sympathetic to her, despite how unhelpful she had been. It seemed a little unfair to keep them running in circles like that, but she didn’t have much of a choice. “Thank you, Officer Langley. I really do appreciate it.”

Officer Langley stood up, gesturing for Haruhi to have the rest of the pastries. “Take them, consider it an apology for calling you out here again. And if you remember anything, anything at all, you have my number.”

Haruhi’s dad was waiting just outside the interrogation room, as usual. He had barely let Haruhi out of his sight since she had gotten back. She had no idea how he would handle it once she started going back to school again.

“Haruhi, finally! Come on, let’s go home,” he said, taking her hand. She let him, since it seemed to help keep him calm, and followed his lead out of the station. She was sure to say goodbye to a few of the friendlier officers as she went.

The walk home was quiet, and a lot less comfortable than the police station. Haruhi could feel how tense her dad was just by how tightly he was holding her hand. He jumped at literal shadows, and was walking a lot faster than he used to.

“Dad… I’m okay, really,” she said softly, pulling him to a stop. “Nothing’s going to happen here. Let’s just relax. It’s a nice day out.”

Her dad looked torn. He had never exactly been the ‘overly responsible, over-protective parent’. He had kept an eye on her, of course, and sometimes went a little overboard, but the stress of worrying about her twenty-four-seven was clearly getting to him. “Well… alright. How about we have a nice day out together? It’s been a long time since we’ve had a real daddy-daughter day!”

Haruhi relaxed a little, glad that seemed to have worked.

 

Tamaki was alone. The sewer was dark and damp, and the water that rushed by was already up to his knees, rusting the metal one. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t run. All he could do was stand there, the gun heavy in his hands, as King Bradley approached him.

“I’m going to kill these people, you understand? They’re going to die if you don’t shoot,” he said, walking closer. The water flowed faster, turning a deep red. Bodies rushed past him, shoving him off-balance and throwing off his aim. The trigger was stuck.

Bradley was right in front of him, his sword at his throat. “Too late.”

With a muffled scream, Tamaki woke up. His limbs were normal. His room was normal. Everything was fine. He was home. Sunlight filtered through his window. He had slept in again. With the nightmares waking him up at all hours of the night, he was exhausted. It wasn’t unusual for him to sleep until halfway through the day, waking up every few hours from another jumbled nightmare. None of them were real, but they were all close enough to things that had happened that it was hard to tell until he woke up.

Maybe it would be better to get out of bed. He dragged himself upright, checking his arms and legs. They were fine. No metal to be found at all. He stood and paced a little, relaxing at the familiar movement. The more he could remind himself that things were perfectly normal again, the better he felt.

That wasn’t helped when he saw the blinking notification on his phone. It was another message from that Officer Langley, probably calling him back to the station. A decidedly _not_ normal place to be. He deleted it without reading it. Going back there to talk about whatever it was he had found would be pointless.

Instead, Tamaki got dressed and tried calling Kyoya. No answer. He hadn’t been picking up since the police found them. Actually, the only one that had answered any of his calls was Haruhi. He supposed everyone else was busy dealing with everything.

Which meant that he had to fill his time on his own. Sneaking out had, understandably, gotten a lot harder, but Tamaki had gotten a lot better at it. Within minutes, he was outside, looking for a distraction. He couldn’t wait until he was allowed to go back to school and catch up with the rest of the Host Club. He was starting to really worry about them.

 

Honey was still in the hospital. As far as he knew, he was the only one still there. But that didn’t stop him from being part of the investigation about what happened. Officer Langley sometimes came to question him, but usually sent his lacky to ask his questions. Officer Graves sat across from him, looking every bit as dour as her name implied.

“There’s been new evidence discovered. Can you tell me anything about this?” she asked, taking out a series of photos.

“That’s the human transmutation circle. It’s how we got to the other world,” he said after barely glancing at the photos. He was in no mood to lie like the others wanted him to, which was probably why he was still in the hospital.

Officer Graves didn’t react for a moment. She never did, not until her thoughts were all in order. Despite that, Honey knew she didn’t believe him. Who would? Takashi’s family certainly didn’t when they visited. They had actually been angry at him when he explained, though they had tried not to show it. People tended to get angry or frustrated with him, if they weren’t pitying him.

But he couldn’t tell what Officer Graves felt. She just gathered up the photos and said with a nod, “Thank you for your assistance in this matter.” And with that, Honey was left alone again.

 

Hikaru had been left mostly alone once they got back. There were the hospital stays and the police questionings, of course, but whenever he was home he mostly hung out in empty rooms. It was weird to call that building home, actually. He didn’t remember it at all. Considering the only memories he was missing were ones with his brother, he supposed they had been close.

Hikaru jumped to his feet at the sound of a soft, awkward knock at the door. It was open, but he was glad for the warning anyway. It was better if he knew in advance before trying to talk to Kaoru. His brother was standing in the doorway, holding a box and fidgeting.

“Hey,” he said softly. His hushed tone was only partly because of his lost hearing. “I found some more of your stuff in our- in my room. Thought you would want it back.”

“Oh. Right. You can just put it over there,” Hikaru said, gesturing at a barren dresser. He hadn’t really had the motivation to decorate his new room yet. It had been his idea to move to a seperate one, even if he felt guilty for pulling away from his brother a little bit.

Kaoru nodded and put the box down where Hikaru had suggested, but didn’t leave afterward. He stood there awkwardly, clearly not sure what to say.

It seemed that Hikaru was just going to have to break the tension somehow. He grabbed his phone and opened the notes app, quickly typing out, ‘I’ve been trying to learn sign language.’ Maybe if they had an easier way of communicating, they would be able to get closer again. After all, it wasn’t just Hikaru’s lack of memories that had been a barrier to them understanding each other. If they could at least talk somehow, they could start to bridge the gap between them.

Kaoru brightened up at that. “Hey, that’s great! Maybe we could learn together?”

That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Kaoru returned his brother’s smile with a nod. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

 

Kyoya was getting nowhere in his research. As frustrating as that was, though, it wasn’t surprising. All he really had to look over were the notes he had made on alchemy and the research he had taken from Mustang and Edward’s room at the beach house. There was nothing else to study. Meaning he had to find his own way of discovering more about alchemy.

Performing alchemy wasn’t all that difficult in practice, assuming he used arrays that he was already familiar with. He had practiced enough before… the _incident_ … that he was confident with moving stone around, at least.

That wasn’t enough, though. He had to find a way to fix what had happened to himself and the other hosts. Medical science wasn’t quite up to the task yet, but that would advance without his efforts. As far as he was aware, he was the only one in his world who both knew about alchemy and was willing to push forward with it. He had to be the one to do so.

If only he had gotten his hands on some of that ‘automail’ technology from Edward and Mustang’s world. With only gears and other mechanical knowledge, they had managed to recreate working limbs. With the integration of more modern technology, working with alchemy, what else could Kyoya accomplish? Certainly, replacing his tongue and fixing Kaoru’s hearing. Hikaru’s memories were trickier, and Honey… his injuries were healing well, actually, but they weren’t the problem. Kyoya had a lot to make up for.

And… And besides, that sort of innovation in medical science could make him millions. Yes, that was the reason. At least, if he said that, it made more sense, since Kyoya had nothing to be guilty about.

_Honey, are you coming? We’re going to need you._

Nothing at all.


	2. Is There a Guide For Handling Trauma?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyoya and Honey agree to disagree, Tamaki and Ranka unfortunately agree, and Haruhi and Ranka eventually come to an agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeey I'm not dead! Just having trouble with chapter one of the companion fic for this. So I decided to just post chapter two of this instead, and I'll write the companion fic when I actually can!

A lot of hospitals had visiting hours. Pretty much all of them did, actually. Kyoya understood that they were there in order to allow patients to rest and staff to get on with their actual jobs, but he didn’t care much about that at that moment. As the son of the owner (despite being the third son), he could get away with certain things, like spending time with Honey outside of the usually-strict visiting hours.

Kyoya sat at Honey’s bedside, sketching the room. Part of him recognized that he must be nervous, since that was a nervous habit of his, but he felt strangely disconnected from it. Actually, he hadn’t felt much of anything since returning from that other world. Maybe he had given up his emotions as a toll to pass through a second time.

Actually, that bitter thought wasn’t helpful, since it was clearly untrue. He hadn’t talked to that silhouette again on the way back, as Pride had apparently paid the toll for all of the hosts. Well. Almost all of them. Mori… hadn’t been able to return. Should he have been more upset at that thought? He couldn’t tell. He was as numb to that as he was to his nerves.

“-oya? Are you listening?”

Kyoya paused for a moment, almost dropping his pen. Honestly, he hadn’t been paying attention to Honey at all. Why had he even visited? Likely out of habit, he supposed. He visited every day, even if it wasn’t constructive at all.

Kyoya cleared his throat and flipped to a new page in his notebook. That was the easiest way to talk to people after what had happened. ‘No, I wasn’t.’

Honey sighed, looking out the window. “Of course not,” he muttered to himself. After a few moments he turned back to Kyoya. There was something cold in his expression. Usually Kyoya would be able to tell more about what a person was feeling by small cues like that, but he couldn’t seem to make the right connections in his head anymore. At least Honey made it perfectly clear what he was thinking. “You’re still using that magic, aren’t you? There’s circles all through your book.”

‘And what of it?’

Honey looked down, tears welling in his eyes. “That stuff killed Takashi.”

Well, that was just completely false. ‘A  _ sword _ killed Mori. Not Alchemy. It saved us when that building was about to collapse on top of us.’  _ Kyoya _ had saved them,  _ using _ Alchemy. He didn’t understand Honey’s anger towards it.

Honey glanced at what Kyoya had written before looking away again. “He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for alchemy.”

Kyoya didn’t bother trying to debate Honey on that point. Not only was Honey too emotional to listen to reason, but he clearly wouldn’t be reading anything else that Kyoya wrote. Besides, once Kyoya figured out how to use Alchemy and automail to repair what they had lost, he was sure Honey would start to see it’s use. He just had to work harder, that was all.

Not that he cared what Honey thought about it, anyway. Why would he? It was useless to rely on a biased opinion like Honey’s, so Kyoya decided to disregard it. He wrote that decision down three times. Writing it would make it real, right? An idea down on paper was solid, real.

“Why do you keep coming here, anyway? You don’t really want to talk to me,” Honey said.

Kyoya couldn’t help but frown at that, gesturing towards his missing tongue.

“You know what I mean,” Honey huffed. “Even when you write stuff down, you don’t wanna hear what I have to say about it. So why do you bother?”

Kyoya thought about it for a moment, his pen hovering just above the paper. Eventually, he just put the pen down and shrugged. There really wasn’t any reason to visit Honey at all. Even so, he wasted a good chunk of each night doing just that. It was time that he could spend on solving the problem. With that in mind, Kyoya got up and began walking toward the door.

“W-wait!” Honey’s voice was small and desperate, and Kyoya couldn’t help but freeze at the sound of it. There was a long pause, but even when Honey continued his tone hadn’t improved. “No, sorry. I gotta stop relying on people. It… hurts. A lot. You’re not Takashi. You can’t… You  _ shouldn’t _ be with me all the time like he was. I gotta get stronger. I gotta do this alone so no-one else… so they don’t…”

Something in Kyoya’s chest ached, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He sat back down next to Honey, deciding that a few more hours with him wouldn’t set his research back too far.

 

Tamaki spent a lot of time out after dark, despite the complaints of his caretakers. His phone buzzed almost continuously in his pocket, filling his inbox with complaints and demands that he return home. He ignored it. If he went back home they would insist that he try to sleep. He would rather avoid that.

Before he knew it, his feet had brought him to a spot across the street from Haruhi’s house. He stood, looking up at her door and trying to gather the courage to go up to it and knock. That, or the courage to go back home.

In the end, he didn’t have time to choose before the door opened. Tamaki was disappointed to see that it wasn’t Haruhi in the doorway, but her father, who was taking out the trash. The moment Ranka set eyes on Tamaki, his expression soured and he half-slammed the door closed. Within moments (which Tamaki spent thinking he possibly shouldn’t have let himself be caught lurking outside Haruhi’s house) Ranka had crossed the street and was looming over him.

“And what do you think  _ you’re _ doing here?” he snapped.

“Oh I just- um- happened to be in the neighbourhood, so I-”

Tamaki didn’t get to finish his lame (though somewhat true) excuse. Ranka cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “Explain to me, Tamaki, exactly what happened on that beach trip of yours.”

The demand made Tamaki flinch and freeze up. Even when the police questioned him, he hadn’t been asked so frankly about it. Memories of what happened rose up like bile in the back of his mind, making it hard to focus on the present. He only just managed to stutter out a weak, “I don’t remember.”

Ranka stared at him, obviously unconvinced. “None of you are willing to talk, are you? Not even Haruhi… My little girl used to be so honest with me, but now…” The pain of his daughter’s secret was clear in his expression, but was quickly covered by a colder emotion. “I think you should stay away from my daughter from now on.”

Tamaki, already weighed down by the memories trying to tear their way to the front of his mind, couldn’t understand. Stay away from Haruhi? But he had to talk to her, if only to check if she was handling everything. “W-wait, but I-”

“Haven’t you and your club done enough damage?” Ranka asked, his tone like a steel blade to the gut. “Just let her go, Tamaki. Don’t make my little girl suffer anymore.” With that, he turned and walked back inside, leaving Tamaki alone.

“... She’s… suffering…?” That was right. Haruhi was- no,  _ everyone _ was suffering, and it was his fault. They had gone to that terrible world to save  _ him _ . Everything that had happened really was his fault.

Tamaki felt his breathing picking up as he turned and ran. He didn’t even keep track of where he was going, he just needed to be  _ somewhere else _ . The memories that had been threatening to overwhelm him began blurring into the streets as he rushed past them, leaving everything looking as if it was soaked with blood.

After who knew how long, Tamaki finally got back home. He wasn’t sure what happened after he collapsed against the front door. Someone had opened it for him and brought him inside, that much was obvious. But everything other than that was nothing but a blank space in his memory.

 

Haruhi was a little annoyed, honestly. She knew her dad was worried about her, and the fact that she was hiding what was really going on couldn’t have been helping, but that was no excuse for him to be so mean to Tamaki. Still, she couldn’t exactly tell him that she had… ‘overheard’ what he had said. There was no normal way to explain that. Once her dad got back, she put aside her annoyance and hugged him tightly.

“Haruhi?” He was obviously confused, but that didn’t stop him from returning the hug.

“I’m going to be okay, Dad,” she said softly, giving him a gentle squeeze. “But… it’s going to take a little while, and you’re going to have to trust me.”

Her dad’s hold on her grew a little more desperate at that. “How can I when you’re lying to me? You and your friends… it’s obvious that there’s something you won’t tell anyone.”

_ Of course he can tell, _ Haruhi thought with a sigh. Simply telling everyone that they ‘didn’t remember’ was enough to fool the police, for a little while at least, but it couldn’t fool the people closest to them. But what else could she say? No-one would believe the truth. Besides, they had all agreed to keep things secret until they figured out exactly what to say to people.

Even so, she couldn’t lie to her dad. “If I promise to tell the truth… every bit of it, from start to finish… then will you promise to believe me no matter how stupid it sounds?”

“I promise, Haruhi. Just please, talk to me.”


	3. A Not-So-Warm Welcome Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone's grades are falling, someone commits a crime, and the Host Club finally returns to music room 3.

“And you’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine,” Haruhi said, trying to carry that message across through the hug she and her dad were sharing. Sure, it wasn’t the coolest thing in the world to hug your dad right in front of the school gates, but Haruhi had bigger concerns than her image. At least, at that moment. She was sure that the damn rich people inside the gates would waste no time in reminding her of how little social capital she had as soon as she set foot inside.

Regardless, she cared far more about making sure her dad felt a little better about letting her go for the day, metaphorically and literally. “I’m gonna be late, Dad.”

“Right, right. I should… get to work, too,” he sighed, pulling away a little. Still, he kept his hands on her shoulders, looking her dead in the eye with a seriousness that didn’t seem to fit naturally on his features. It was a look that Haruhi had seen a lot since she returned. “On the subject of being late… are you going to go to that club after school?”

Haruhi flinched. Even after she had confessed everything she was hiding (or maybe  _ because _ of what she had confessed), they still hadn’t agreed on whether or not she should go back to the Host Club. Agreed or not, she was going to go, though. “I have to. I can’t just leave them after everything that happened.”

Her dad was obviously upset by that, but didn’t argue. “Alright. But you’re not to walk home on your own. Wait here for me to come pick you up.”

Haruhi nodded in agreement, finally prompting her dad to let her go.

 

By lunch hour, the tension in the staff room was palpable. After such a short recovery window the Host Club had once again returned to school. Or, they had  _ physically _ returned, anyway.

“I guess it’s understandable, with what happened,” said Mrs Sugita. “I wouldn’t be able to focus, either, if I had been kidnapped…”

Mr Ikehata grunted in agreement, leaning back in his chair. “I can already tell Suoh and Ootori are going to lose their top spot this year. Suoh just stares into space, and Ootori draws random circles in his notebook.”

“And the Hitachiins,” Mr Nagata added. “Normally I couldn’t separate them for the life of me, but now they won’t even sit next to each other. They focus well enough on their work, but it’s obvious that things aren’t as easy for them as they used to be.”

“And what about Miss Fujioka? How is she holding up?” Mrs Sugita asked.

Mr Nagata considered it with a small frown. “She’s acting pretty much the same as always, but I think that just worried me more. Shouldn’t she be, I don’t know, distraught? Not that I want her to be upset, of course, but…” He shook his head, unsure of how he even wanted to finish the sentence. “How are you holding up, Sugita? I know you’re close to all the third-years.”

Mrs Sugita turned away, not wanting her colleagues to see her tearing up. “I think Honey- I mean, Haninozuka took it worst of all. He… doesn’t talk, or even look anyone in the eye.”

“Morinozuka’s still missing, right?” Mr Ikehata asked.

“Yeah, as far as I know. Haninozuka keeps telling these elaborate stories about what happened.” Mrs Sugita hugged herself a little, staring out the window as if she would find Morinozuka there. “It makes me think… maybe the worst happened, and he can’t accept it…”

“There’s no point speculating.” Mr Nagita’s tone was harsh. “For now, all we can do is try to help them through this part of their lives, like we do for all of our students.”

“Augh, I’m no good at this touchy-feely crap,” Mr Ikehata grumbled. “But are we sure it’s a good idea to let that ‘Host Club’ keep meeting up? Won’t they still be targets of whatever whackjobs kidnapped them in the first place?”

Mrs Sugita shrugged. “Well, the extra guards should take care of that. And besides, I think they need to be able to support each other and get back into a normal environment.”

“Although, officially, the club is disbanded,” clarified Mr Nagita. “No ‘wackjob’ will even know they’re there.”

Mr Ikehata got up, gathering the materials for his next class. “I guess. I wish they’d let one of us supervise that club, though.”

 

Graves stood guard in the doorway to Music Room 3, though it wasn’t really necessary. No-one would walk by, considering all the students were in class.

“And… done!” Langley said brightly, climbing down from the ceiling.

Graves glanced over at him before focusing on the hallway again. “This is against the law.” They were both well aware of that, but Graves felt the need to remind Langley of the legality of his actions at least five times a day.

“Ah, but it’s in service of justice!” he replied, striking a ridiculous pose. Graves rolled her eyes, leading Langley to grow serious for a change. “Look, we’ve got to do  _ something _ . We’ve exhausted all legal avenues. Hell, half of our investigation is being blocked off because those rich people have their secrets that they don’t want us uncovering.”

“It is… frustrating.”

Langley nodded, cheering up a little once Graves finally agreed with him. “Besides, even though I have no doubt that those kids are victims, I also don’t doubt they’re hiding something. Repression is pretty common in traumatic situations, but not so common that I buy  _ every single one _ of those kids not remembering anything.”

“You’re right.”

“Then we’re agreed! Bugging their club room is the next logical step in this investigation!” Langley cheered.

Graves sighed, shaking her head. Of  _ course _ that was what he got from what she said. And in a way, he was right. She just wished there was a more legal way to go about it. “Let’s just get out of here before someone asks what we’re doing.”

 

Tamaki thought that school would have been a comfort, something normal to anchor him back to reality. That was the plan. But… it wasn’t really  _ working _ . In fact, the more classes he attended, the more he felt like he was just drifting through his day. It all seemed so… pointless. What did he care about studying for exams when he could wake up as a completely different person the next morning? When he could suddenly find himself in some sort of crazy magical war without any warning?

He spent most of his day staring into space, wishing he could focus on anything besides his fear, but not finding anything in his classes worth focusing on. Instead, he just sat through them, digging his nails into the soft skin of his arms whenever his mind threatened to overwhelm him with memories.

Of course, classes had never been the most engaging part of his day. That honour was reserved for the Host Club. After hours of painful waiting, classes ended. Tamaki practically jumped out of his seat at the thought he would finally be back at the club, where it was safe. It took all of his self-control to keep his pace at a brisk walk rather than a run. He couldn’t reach the music room fast enough.

And finally,  _ finally _ , he was home.

As the door closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. The room was empty and a little dusty, but everything was right where he had left it. He gave himself a minute or so of quiet stillness, letting his mind slowly relax. He was back in the club room. He was safe. The longer he was in there, the more he felt he could relax. Eventually, he wandered over to one of the room’s many couches and sat down. That quickly turned to lying down, which quickly became dozing off. For the first time since he returned, he felt like he would be able to sleep without nightmares.

Thankfully, he slept deeply and dreamlessly, although that only lasted for about half an hour. Still, he couldn’t complain. After all, the thing that woke him up was the arrival of Haruhi and the twins, who were halfway through a conversation as they walked in.

“-been worried about everyone else, so it’s good to be back,” she was saying to the two of them. They flanked her, but didn’t follow when she noticed Tamaki and rushed right over. “Tamaki-senpai! It’s good to see you!” She hugged him tightly, and Tamaki gladly accepted it.

“I’m glad to see you too,” he said softly, squeezing her back. She was warm and, more importantly, safe. He closed his eyes, taking comfort in that quiet, peaceful moment.

Though, it couldn’t last forever. Kaoru leaned on the back of the couch, grinning a cat-like grin. “You two seem pretty comfortable there,” he chuckled.

Haruhi pulled away, blushing. Still, one of her hands landed right over one of Tamaki’s, and she quickly took hold of it. “Well, it’s a comfortable couch.”

Tamaki laughed, putting a hand over Haruhi’s shoulder. “Now, now, mon chéri, you can admit it. You finally fell for my incredible charms.” He leaned back and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Haruhi out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help his sauve smile turning to something a little more goofy, though, at the sight of her. She really was lovely. How had it taken him so long to realize he was in love? Maybe Kyoya was right, he might be a bit of an idiot.

“Come on, Senpai, you know that doesn’t work on me” Haruhi laughed, pushing him off herself. “Well,  _ that _ doesn’t, but… I’m not entirely immune to the honest you.”

It was Tamaki’s turn to blush, then.

“You two sure like to flirt, huh?” Hikaru asked, sitting at a nearby table and sampling one of the sweets laid out there. Though, while his hands were free, he was moving them in gestures that Tamaki only realized toward the end were sign language. “Were you always like this?”

Kaoru, who had been watching Hikaru’s hands, shook his head. “This is new,” he said, patting Haruhi’s head. “But it’s pretty cute, so I guess I’ll allow it.”

It was then that the doors opened for a second time, and Honey walked in. The mood immediately dampened some.

“Oh, Honey-senpai, you came,” Kaoru said, cutting through the tension a little bit. “The hospital finally released you, huh?”

Honey shook his head. “They’re gonna pick me up this afternoon,” he sighed, sitting next to Hikaru. Gloomily, he picked at the sweets on the table.

“Oh. Well… at least you get to send some time here with us, right Senpai?” Haruhi said warmly, getting up to go sit next to him.

Honey looked around at everyone before giving a weak smile. “Yeah. That’s right. I’m still here with every-” He flinched. It wasn’t quite everyone there. “… With all of you.”

Tamaki got up, brushing himself off to get rid of the wrinkles in his clothes caused by sleeping on the couch. “In that case, once Kyoya arrives, we can begin club activities! There are no young ladies scheduled today, but there are so many other things we can do to get back in the spirit of things!”

It was about half an hour before Kyoya made an appearance. Honestly, he had looked better. With his wrinkled uniform, unkempt hair, and dark circles under his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in weeks (something Tamaki knew a lot about). Though, pointing that out wasn’t really tactful. Instead, Tamaki walked over with a bright smile.

“Kyoya! Finally! Now we can get started!” he said.

Kyoya stared at him for a moment, his expression sitting somewhere between confused and annoyed, then wrote, ‘Why were you waiting for me?’

Tamaki didn’t understand the question. “We- Um- Well, why wouldn’t we? The Host Club wouldn’t be the same without you.”

‘The club was disbanded.’ His expression was definitely annoyed by that point.

“Officially, yes, but-”

Kyoya ignored everyone’s shocked looks as he walked by them, heading to the back of the room.

Tamaki could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he couldn’t stop speaking. “But that’s only for the press! They’re still letting us use the room!”

Kyoya kept walking.

“Kyoya?! Mon amie?! Please!”

Finally, Kyoya paused, one hand on the door to the Occult Club’s room.

“Please, Kyoya, nothing has to change!”

With a sigh, Kyoya turned back towards Tamaki and the others and began writing. Tamaki smiled a little, glad he had gotten through to Kyoya. The idea that he might leave... 

‘I’ve joined the Occult Club. I don’t have time to play host anymore.’

And just like that, Kyoya walked out, leaving Tamaki shattered.


	4. A Glimpse of the Kyoya Yet to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyoya is a skeptic, a scientist, and the greatest mage in the room.

Kyoya shut the door behind him, sighing. That had been quite a mess, but it was hardly his fault. Tamaki had never told him he intended to continue the club despite their official disbandment, so Kyoya had made other plans. Besides, not only was his work important, but the rest of the hosts were there to keep Tamaki company. Surely it wouldn’t matter too much if he skipped club activities for a while.

And he did have the Occult Club to deal with. He looked around the dark, cramped room. Most of it was filled with boxes and various props from music room 3 (after all, it was the storage area for that room). It wasn’t long before someone approached holding a candelabra. They were likely trying to look mysterious, but Kyoya just thought that the open flames were a fire hazard in such a dusty area. Still, he thought better of mentioning it. Best to stay in the Occult Club’s good graces for the time being.

Eventually, they came upon the Occult Club’s main gathering area. It was mostly made up of boxes covered by large white sheets gathered around a large altar. Most of the altar itself was taken up by various depictions of cats -- statues, paintings, photographs -- as well as a few cat-related flowers and gemstones. Ordinarily Kyoya would have rolled his eyes, but after what he had gone through he didn’t really have it in him to be skeptical.

Nekozawa knelt by the altar, head bowed in prayer. At the sound of Kyoya and his escort’s arrival, though, he got to his feet and spun around, waving his cloak in a dramatic fashion. “Ah, Kyoya! We’ve been expecting you…” Of course they had. Kyoya had told them he was coming, after all. “Are you ready for… _initiation_?”

Before Kyoya could answer that, someone threw some sort of cloth over his head and grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him to his knees. The people around him began to chant. It sounded like there were too many voices for the number of people he had seen in the room. They echoed and overlapped in unnatural ways. A thick, heavy smell filled the air. The chanting rose to a crescendo. Then, someone grabbed the cloth that covered him and adjusted it, revealing that the cloth was actually one of the Occult Club’s signature hoods.

“You are now… an official member of the Occult Club…!” Nekozawa cackled.

Somewhere in the background, Kyoya heard the distinct _click_ of a tape recorder being shut off right as the chanting stopped. _Ah, of course._ Perhaps it would do him some good to be a little more skeptical, despite knowing that magic was certainly possible.

He stood up, smoothing down the cloak that had been forced on him and taking out his notebook. He had already prepared a few statements and questions in advance, so that he wouldn’t have to waste time writing things down. ‘Show me that famous dark magic of yours.’

Nekozaway turned away, taking a few moments to chuckle to himself. “If you insist… I shall begin with… pyromancy!” He picked up a pair of thick gloves from the altar and slipped them on. “No matter how much control one has over the elements, they may still bite back… One must be careful…!”

Once his hands were protected, Nekozawa spun back around to face Kyoya, waving his hand over a nearby candle as he did. The flame jumped from the candle to his hand, trailing along after his dramatic movement before settling in his palm. “Witness true mastery of the elements!”

Kyoya looked on without comment, though that didn’t seem to dampen Nekozawa’s spirit. He clenched his hand around the ball of flame, putting it out, before turning away again. “And now, something that many think is only done by followers of the light…” He removed the gloves before picking up a wine glass and a pitcher of water. With a manic grin, he poured the water into the glass and, as he swished it around, watched it turn a deep wine red. “It’s best for you not to taste the fruits of my dark magic just yet. For your own safety, I shall remove it.” He took a deep breath, blowing on the liquid and returning it to clear water.

“And finally, a gift bestowed upon me by my dark patrons! The ability to levitate!” he announced, moving to the side of the altar with a flourish of his cloak. He closed his eyes and placed a hand on one of the cat statues. After a moment of focus, he folded his legs up underneath himself, hovering in the air.

Or, so it seemed. Kyoya, however, was not fooled. ‘Is that really all you have for me?’ He was disappointed that he had to use that pre-prepared reply, though not surprised.

He flipped to a new page and began writing. ‘That ‘levitation’ is nothing but a well-balanced platform that you’re sitting on. It’s likely a dark material so as to be hidden by the low lighting. Your cloak covers it once you sit on it so people don’t see it when they look at you. That flourish was to drape your cloak over it properly.’

Nekozawa flinched, clearly beginning to panic. “Now wait a moment-!”

Kyoya continued regardless. ‘That water was not transformed at all, it was simply mixed with phenolphthalein indicator. The glass it was poured into was lined with sodium carbonate, which causes a reaction in the indicator that turns the water red. Blowing on the water reverses that reaction.’

“Perhaps that was… an exaggeration of my dark power, but-”

‘And the fireball was just a piece of cotton soaked in rubbing alcohol, which burns colder than other fuels. If I were to look in the palm of those gloves, the evidence would still be in the palm of them.’

Nekozawa sighed, hanging his head. “Alright, alright. The true powers of the Occult Club are rather… slow to act, and often more subtle. Curses do not take their full effect right away, so I thought it would be better for new members if I learned a few tricks to make things more… immediately impressive.”

‘This is a waste of my time. Let me show you _real_ magic.’ Kyoya, keeping his eyes fixed coldly on Nekozawa, flipped through his notebook to the back and tore out a page. He slapped it against the wall, feeling more than seeing the array on the page begin to glow. He yanked his hand away just in time to avoid it being skewered by the cone of marble that slammed out of the wall. Nekozawa, in his haste to scramble away from it, fell off the platform he was sitting on and crashed to the ground. Even then, he only narrowly avoided a nasty wound. The tip of the marble cone stopped just short of slicing open his side.

“Master Nekozawa!” one of the other club members gasped, starting to rush over.

Nekozawa held up a hand to stop her, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Kyoya. “What is it… you want from us?”

Kyoya grinned, taking his time in walking over to Nekozawa’s side. He crouched down, but still loomed over the toppled figure of the Occult Club president. ‘Tell me everything you know about black magic.’

 

It was quite late by the time Kyoya left the school grounds. Had he done something like that a few weeks ago, his father would have his private police force searching up and down for any trace of him. But a lot had happened since then, and his father hadn’t approved of any of it. So instead of panicked officers, Kyoya was greeted by a single, slightly nervous driver.

“Ah-! Master Kyoya, your father was concerned about y-”

Kyoya silenced him with a glare. He didn’t have time for lies or platitudes. He had to return home to study the few things that Nekozawa had been able to tell him. He didn’t risk going through it in the car, though. All he had to do was get to his room and he could keep working. Though that  _ did _ mean he had to get past his father…

When Kyoya arrived home, he was immediately face by his father sitting down waiting for him in the parlour. “You’re late.”

‘Yes, I am.’ Kyoya tried to leave it at that, but had only managed one step toward the door before his father grabbed his arm.

“I didn’t dismiss you yet,” he growled. “Everyone else may tolerate your bad attitude, but I won’t accept your excuses!”

‘Excuses?’ Kyoya wrote. He could feel something horrible and ugly boiling up inside him. ‘I was in- I was  _ kidnapped _ . You expect me to go right back to being an obedient child? What do you care? I’m only your third son, anyway.’

His father pulled him a little closer. “Do  _ not _ speak to me that way!”

Kyoya evenly met his eyes and suddenly realized… he was no longer afraid of the man. After what he had seen, his father didn’t seem such an insurmountable obstacle. If he really wanted to, there was a page in his notebook with an array that could cause some real damage to anyone, even his old man. Maybe if he didn’t let go soon…

As if sensing Kyoya’s line of thought, his father let go of his arm and turned away. “Ungrateful brat. Get out of my sight.”

Kyoya didn’t bother looking back at his father as he left.

 

_ Finally _ . He sighed, practically collapsing into his chair. Some part of himself noticed that he was  _ so tired _ , but he ignored it. He had work to do. He spread his research materials out on the table in front of him, mostly focusing on the new occult information he had gathered. If he was being honest, most of it was, at that point, useless to him. It focused mainly around curses and other slow-acting, impossible to prove ‘magic’. Still, Kyoya spent hours pouring over the few notes he had gathered.

Eventually, he had to set them aside. They were giving him a headache… So instead, he turned his attention back to Alchemy. He hadn’t figured out any healing applications of it by then, but it could help him another way…

Those ‘automail’ limbs that he had seen over on the other side of the Gate. Those, combined with modern technology, would surely be able to restore everything that he and the other club members had lost. Though he hadn’t been able to study it before he left. Which meant there was only one thing left to do. He cleared off the table and began drawing a Human Transmutation circle.

Of course, the name was inaccurate, as far as he could tell. Because it’s true function, far from transmuting actual humans, was to open the Gate to that other world. If so, then there was no need for him to send a person through, and thus no need for the heavy toll that such an action incurred. Instead, he could send a simple letter. The downside of that being he would have no way of knowing if the letter would actually reach anyone or not.

He didn’t have time to doubt his plan. He carefully set up the letter and his payment. Part of him really did feel bad for the poor little bird sitting in a cage in the center of the circle. Then again, what if a living thing really was needed for the Gate to open? He couldn’t risk his letter getting stuck or lost.

With a deep breath and shaky hands, he began the transmutation. A huge eye opened up in the middle of his table, from which emerged hands that devoured everything in the array’s radius. Within moments, it was gone, and the glass table shattered.

_ Damn it-! _ Kyoya stumbled back so as not to cut himself on the shards. He would have to dispose of that later, once he was sure everyone was asleep. For the moment, though, he was content to find himself without any new wounds after that experiment. If he somehow received a letter back, then it could be considered a rousing success. If not… well, he hadn’t lost anything significant, so he didn’t mind having to try another plan. He would go through as many as he had to in order to fix what had been broken.


End file.
